


I just want you for my own, more than you could ever know

by dollyeo



Series: Actor/Manager AU [6]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Showbusiness, Domestic, Genderbending, Kid Fic, Married Life, Married Sex, Masturbation in Shower
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:28:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28315302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dollyeo/pseuds/dollyeo
Summary: You’d think at forty they’d be more responsible about their sex life and tone it down some, but no.
Relationships: Jeon Wonwoo/Kwon Soonyoung | Hoshi
Series: Actor/Manager AU [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/865113
Comments: 18
Kudos: 58
Collections: South x Southwest: A Soonyoung/Wonwoo Prompt Fest





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [soonwoo2020](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/soonwoo2020) collection. 



> SOONWOO AND THIS PARENTING PROMPT FILL: https://imagine-your-parent-otp.tumblr.com/post/171428979568/your-otp-kids 
> 
> (in this chapter:
> 
> Which parent sneaks veggies into the kids’ dinner and who doesn’t like veggies themselves?
> 
> Who is the parent that yells at the kid for being called to the principal’s office and who is the parent who yells at the principal?)

The first mistake, Wonwoo claims, is thinking that at forty-something, they’d still be able to keep up with the complicated sleeping patterns of a baby.

He says this to her after Jihoon spams them with links of the tabloids commenting on his scruffy, exhausted appearance when they’d managed to snap pictures of him before going into immigration; the bags under his eyes, Soonyoung had tried to hide with concealer alongside the kiss mark she’d left on his jawline, right under his ear before Jisoo had picked him up, but there was no denying the uneven stubble on his skin and the splotchy blemishes on his skin from one too many sleepless nights. Just shy of fifty, Soonyoung still feels a flutter in her stomach and something stirring in her gut when she looks at him, but at that age, they’re just glad when their bodies still cooperate with them, especially when trying to handle the stressful parts of raising a baby.

The second mistake, of course, is being insane enough to keep being hands-on and not hiring someone to help out, but after Soonyoung teases him with pictures of young, attractive college students answering help wanted ads for a part-time nanny, Wonwoo just leaves read receipts in his wake. It’s terrible. It’s immature. And yet Soonyoung keeps doing it anyway just to watch him sulk about it after.

And anyway, there’s a reason Soonyoung’s giving the twins more pocket money than they need. Babysitting is just another incentive.

Privately, Soonyoung thinks the _actual_ first mistake is giving into Wonwoo’s limpid, kicked-kitten eyes when they’d forgotten to stock up on condoms and thought, well, doing it raw once _can’t_ hurt in their late forties, right? You’d think at forty they’d be more responsible about their sex life and tone it down some, but no. As if they hadn’t learned from over a decade ago the last time the condom had broken and surprised them with two kids and a rushed wedding ceremony, but at least now Soonyoung feels vaguely placid, less harried than the first time around.

It helps that they’d given her the really great painkillers this time. Medication does wonders to inducing zen in the middle of a wailing infant and teenagers complaining the whole time.

“This wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t gone on that training camp,” says Bongsun, glaring daggers at Bongki the entire time. Never mind that it’s been Bongki who’d taken up most of the babysitting duties this time around and learned how to sterilize bottles and change diapers instead of pretending he’d had too much homework to even be bothered. If only the Return of Superman viewers could see them now. “We could have been in Japan for our birthday. _Japan_.”

“You could have gone on your own, you know,” says Bongki, brows knitted together. “No one asked you to stay.”

“And be alone to babysit _dad_?” Bongsun says, aghast. “No way. You _know_ what that’s like.”

“No badmouthing your father when he’s not around to hear it,” says Soonyoung. Wonwoo’s out on a three-day shoot, one he’d initially balked at after explicitly instructing the agency _not_ to book him for anything over the city limits for at least twelve months after Soonyoung had given birth, but Soonyoung had taken one look at the offer and promptly made arrangements behind his back before letting him know about it a couple of days prior. There’d been lots of cuddling and blowjobs to compensate, even if Wonwoo had looked at her with a mixture of betrayal and resignation when he’d found out. Not too different from when they’d first started working together, really, except this time Soonyoung’s negotiation skills have gotten a lot better, and Wonwoo’s willpower even worse.

Then again, they hadn’t been sleeping together in all senses of the word and in a committed relationship with joint bank accounts, shared property and ‘spawns of evil’, as Minghao likes to put it. Marriage really changes people in some ways.

“It could have been worse,” says Bongki. “You could have been babysitting dad _and_ Soojin.”

“She’s at grandma’s, she wouldn’t even know we were gone,” says Bongsun.

It’s true. Wonwoo’s been sulking about it since the first night she’d spent away from them, already engrossed in playing with her cousins and exploring the countryside; she’d cried and begged Wonwoo to come with her when Soonyoung’s parents had picked her up, only to promptly forget about them the minute she’d discovered the baby ducklings in the shed. Clearly, her priorities are in order.

“I’m pretty sure dad would pick her up and buy her a ticket at the last minute if he had his way,” says Bongsun.

“Nah, he’d stay at home and fuss all the time instead,” says Soonyoung. “You know what he’s like.”

“I _know_ ,” Bongsun says, eyeing Bongki, who’d gotten Wonwoo’s obsession with gaming and his nocturnal habits along the way. If Bongsun hadn’t trained himself out of sleeping lightly, he probably would have claimed the living room couch as his own bed growing up.

Jinhwan squirms in Bongki’s hold, restless by now; he can’t quite settle down unless he’s close to Wonwoo, of all people, and Soonyoung should probably be more jealous but after three kids and how many sleepless nights with extremely clingy children, she’s glad to foist off favored parent duties to him this time around. In his absence, he’s more likely to quiet down in his brothers’ arms, not quite old enough to differentiate their faces from Wonwoo’s, but it’s not the same either way. At least he doesn’t break out into screaming fits. If he had, Soonyoung would have seriously considered talking to Wonwoo about a vasectomy if he wanted to keep having sex with her without protection. You’d think after how many years spent trying to figure out parenting, he’d grow out of the kink.

(Soonyoung certainly hasn’t. It’s all the damn suits Wonwoo keeps wearing to formal events and awards shows that do her in. That, and how all that gym training for his last movie had gotten a bit more bulk into his body. Her hormones are all over the place the closer she gets to menopause and Wonwoo crossing over to silver fox territory. _Damn it_.)

“I could be pigging out on conveyor belt sushi by now,” Bongsun continues, glumly. He looks at the baby formula on the countertop and the instant noodles Soonyoung had scrambled to heat up minutes after being woken by Jinhwan at— she squints at the wall clock— half-past midnight. _On a weekday_. “Why didn’t we just get something delivered again?”

“Last time I left you in charge of ordering, the only non-protein items were the side dishes,” says Soonyoung.

“Mom, instant noodles aren’t any better than beef stew,” Bongsun argues.

“Sure it is,” says Soonyoung. “It’s why I put so many vegetables in it.”

“I can’t even see the noodles anymore,” Bongsun despairs.

“Eat your vegetables before they get soggy,” says Soonyoung, nudging Bongsun’s foot under the table none-too-gently. “I went through the trouble of dicing all those baby carrots after you wouldn’t stop complaining!”

“Sushi wouldn’t have carrots in it,” Bongsun wails, but he picks up the sad-looking chopped cabbages, onions and carrots with a spoon to comply. “Or onions!”

“A few bites wouldn’t kill you,” says Soonyoung. “You used to love vegetables when you were five years old.”

“I didn’t know any better,” says Bongsun. Soonyoung sighs. At least Bongsun hadn’t gotten Wonwoo’s aversion for greens _and_ seafood. She’s blaming this all on him.

“Maybe I should have asked your grandparents to take you along with Soojin,” says Soonyoung. “You could learn how to raise chickens and fertilize the crops and _eat more vegetables when your grandfather tells you to_.” It’s not too late for one of them to make a trip up north and take her home, even if Soojin would probably scream murder at the prospect of being taken away from all the farm animals.

Bongsun shudders at the thought— as if he hadn’t been a much bigger pain in the ass as a kid than his younger sister. At least, Wonwoo seems to think so, for all his distorted favoritism for his little princess. Privately, Soonyoung thinks they’re all wrong. They’re all equally annoying, for all that she loves them.

Except Jinhwan. Soonyoung’s betting Jinhwan would be the least of her concerns once he grows out of his eat-sleep-poop indiscriminately phase. Looking at him gnawing quietly at her t-shirt, Soonyoung won’t be surprised if he turns out the be the most well-adjusted out of all of them.

“Is that why you asked them to watch over Soojin for a few weeks?” Bongki asks, amused.

Soonyoung shrugs. “She had to learn how to eat black beans at some point.”

“No wonder we spent a lot of vacations in the farm,” says Bongki. He bends until he’s eye-level with Jinhwan, who’s peeking at him from behind Soonyoung’s shoulder. “This is your future, kiddo. Maybe mom and dad will be more chill by the time you can walk.”

“What are you talking about, I’m super chill,” says Soonyoung.

“Mom, you yelled at our homeroom teacher when he wanted to talk to you about a fundraising activity.”

“In my defense, it was a really stupid idea,” says Soonyoung. When Kim-seonsaengnim had tentatively raised the possibility of maybe having Wonwoo participate in a mini-concert at the school festival, she could only blame the pregnancy hormones and the malfunctioning heater for the way she’d alternated between weepy blubbering and hysterics. (”Why would anyone even pay to watch him do aegyo?” She’d stressed. More importantly— “Which desperate PTA mom even suggested it anyway?”)

“You also yelled at him when he told you Bongsun was the one who even suggested it.”

“He had no business to be listening to a hormonal teenager looking to impress his crush.”

“Gee, thanks, keep talking about me like I’m not here,” says Bongsun, wrinkling his nose.

“You shouldn’t be pimping your father out to impressionable young ladies.”

“I was going for Uncle Mingyu, but they completely misinterpreted my suggestion,” says Bongsun.

“That’s an even stupider idea. You think if Hana-sshi saw Kim Mingyu, she’d magically like _you_ instead of him? That man is a work of art,” says Soonyoung, heatedly.

“Which is _why_ it would have been better if it were dad,” he insists. “One look at him and she’ll realize that could be me thirty years from now, but ten thousand times better!”

“Why do I feel like you’re insulting your entire bloodline _and_ my tastes?”

“I’m just _saying_ , I’d be the winner in the genetic lottery,” says Bongsun.

“Too bad she’s got a crush on your brother instead.”

“Leave me out of it,” says Bongki, holding his hands up in surrender.

“It’s all the football practices and short shorts,” Bongsun complains. “Stop taking off your shirt after practice!”

“I get really sweaty,” says Bongki.

“Can’t believe we look alike but _he_ gets all the girls without trying,” says Bongsun. “This is so unfair.”

“That’s because Bongki’s good at listening to people,” says Soonyoung. “You, on the other hand, can’t even spend an entire day with Soojin without riling her up.”

“She keeps starting it!”

“She’s _four years old_.”

“She’ll always be annoying,” says Bongsun, sagely, like he hadn’t been the same when he was her age.

She leaves Bongki and Bongsun arguing in the dining room to put Jinhwan to bed in the crib they’d kept in the corner of their bedroom. They’d thought of house hunting for a bigger place, maybe somewhere in the suburbs, but the condo’s nearer to the twins’ school and she doesn’t trust them to not steal the car keys just to go to the city. Besides, it’s a good neighborhood, and they’ll have more space when the two graduate and maybe want to move somewhere closer to uni— Bongki, she’s not too sure about, but Bongsun’s been increasingly vocal about living on his own to avoid being strapped into babysitting duties 24/7, even if he had to get a part-time job to make it work.

She takes a picture of Jinhwan drooling on his baby blanket once he’s out like a light and sends it to her parents and Wonwoo’s. She doesn’t send it to Wonwoo, though, not when she has Plans waiting in the bathroom after a hot shower. Those plans involve a delayed present when she’d gotten too big to fit into the flimsy slip of cloth, and while some of the pregnancy pudge is still lingering, it’s not anything Wonwoo’s minded in the past, not when he’d stroked her stomach tenderly just the other day before going down on her while the kids were at school and Jinhwan mercifully asleep. 

Just thinking of Wonwoo makes her bite her lip and stare at the shower head, considering. As much as she makes fun of Wonwoo’s seemingly-endless thirst, there’s days she feels like she’s decades younger and as eager as the honeymoon phase, wanting him more than she’s sure he does to her. There’s things she doesn’t tell Wonwoo, not even after how many years later. Things like— how she’d sometimes watch him in a sordid love scene in their twenties, before they’d even called what it was between them as more than professionalism or friendship. How on her days off, she’d sometimes just scroll through forums with his pictures or jump through videos of his kissing scenes while in bed, right before she’d tug her shorts and panties off and touch herself under the furnace of her comforter. She’d bitten down on her lip so hard she’d bruised, unwilling to let herself cry out for fear that she’d call his name instead. He’d always been easy to fantasize about. It’s no wonder thousands of other people did.

Now, how many years into marriage, and she doesn’t tell him what she does sometimes, when he’s not watching; when they’re together, Wonwoo’s always eager to touch her with his mouth, his fingers, his cock, and even when she gets off in front of him, there’s always a part of him that’s within reach, his palm on the small of her back, his fingers splayed on her parted knee, his mouth whispering words of love and adoration and her name, always her name, on the top of her head, the nape of her neck, the tip of her ear, her jaw, her shoulder. His breath hot, on the mound of her breast; his touch searing on her overheated skin.

She clenches her teeth, thinking of how it’s probably two in the morning where Wonwoo is, before turning the temperature of the shower lower until it’s lukewarm enough to the touch. Maybe she could wake him up with a treat instead, and take care of herself before then? She’ll tell him exactly what she’s doing right now, and he can read it later as he waits to board the plane, burning with want the entire time. She can ask the boys to do a grocery run, maybe run an errand at least five train stops away from home, and hopefully Jinhwan would be fed and full by the time Wonwoo gets home so they can at least have an hour to themselves.

Maybe Wonwoo will be in a teasing mood, maybe he’ll ask to watch her again before letting his tongue join the trail of her fingers working herself open. Or maybe— she bites her lip and makes a soft, incoherent sound as she rubs at her clit and aims the showerhead lower— maybe he’ll waste no time getting her to her knees, roughly working two fingers at her clit to get her wet enough to take him, like they’re thirty again and having a quick, desperate fuck before anyone catches them at work. He won’t take his time scissoring her open, not like when they’d had hours to themselves on their last anniversary trip and he’d fucked her with his fingers until she’d come twice and begged him to get a move on; impatience would get the better of them, maybe Wonwoo would forget about the condoms again and just push into her warmth, or maybe Soonyoung would be the one guiding him inside without thinking and babbling into his neck about how much she’d missed him, how she missed _this_ , how she’d been thinking about his cock inside her for _days_ , oh, oh, _oh_ —

A guttural cry escapes her throat, but it’s a mix of want and frustration. Even with the water stimulating her most sensitive parts, it’s not enough; she parts her legs wider, before pushing a finger inside. Another. And another. She can’t reach as deep with her fingers, but the girth is close enough to Wonwoo’s, and the fullness makes her groan. Her inner walls pulse and contract around her, and she wonders if this is how he feels when he’s inside her, if it’s better than what she feels when he’s buried deep and fucking her like it’s a race, like he needs to win by making her come first. He’s gotten better at holding out the older they get, but she remembers how his eyelids would flutter and his teeth would nip and bite at her skin the closer he got to an orgasm, how he’d spill his release on her stomach, on her breasts, sometimes still inside her when she’d held him close and locked her legs around his back, trapping him to her. And when he’d come, she remembers how his cock would still pulse inside her, how he’d stroked her hair out of her face and whisper things like, _I love you, I adore you, I wish I could stay like this with you forever_ until she’d laughed and pushed him away so she can clean herself up, taking his words with a grain of salt.

And sometimes, when he’d yet to calm down, when she’d catch her breath for a few seconds and still feel that stirring in her gut, she’d push her upper body up with her shoulders before rocking back on his lap with purpose, until his pupils would dilate and he’d settle his palms on her hips to bounce her on his cock, and then they’d kiss and fuck until they couldn’t move anymore, too exhausted to.

It’s the memory of Wonwoo’s flushed cheeks, his parted lips, the soft turn of his expression even as she eats him up that makes her come, and when she pulls her fingers away, they come out with clear, sticky liquid; she spreads it on the inside of her thighs, her stomach, until the water washes it all away without a trace, the only reminder of what she’d done in the form of her heavy breathing, the sweat sticking on her scalp.

The hunger hasn’t really died, not just yet. Catching her breath, she wonders when it ever really does.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who sneaks candy to the kids before school, whilst the other pretends not to notice?
> 
> Who’s the one against sweets before dinner and who lets it slide?

Wonwoo’s flight leaves at four in the afternoon, which means he’ll likely get home late enough that it’s past Jinhwan’s bedtime, but earlier than the time cram school ends for the twins. Soonyoung’s already mentally calculating just how much time they have to sneak in a bit more than a couple of lingering kisses and a not-so-discreet grope before abandoning the plan entirely. Her brother isn’t set to arrive with Soojin until tomorrow morning, but he also has a nasty habit of forgetting to text before making last-minute changes to his own itinerary; she and Wonwoo had already traumatized her brother back when they were still living together, best not to have a repeat how many decades later.

It doesn’t stop Wonwoo from trying, though, the palms of his hands warm and solid against her hips as he spins her around and cages her against the front door, leaning in for a kiss hello. The creases forming on the corners of his eyes become more pronounced as his face breaks out into a wide smile, before morphing into a small smirk at the audible hitch in her breath. She kisses back harder, if only to wipe the smarmy grin off his lips, though it’s likely a failure when he takes it as permission and cups her cheek to draw her in closer instead.

She puts a hand on his chest, stalling. “Aren’t we a little too old to be scandalizing our neighbors, Jeon Wonwoo-sshi?”

“There’s a reason we installed soundproof walls,” says Wonwoo, drily, but lets her bat him away to drag his luggage into their home.

Back in the day, when they were in the first few months of their budding relationship, they would have taken an eternity to unpack, plans discarded in favor of more enjoyable activities in each other’s company, but now they’ve developed a routine, Soonyoung helping him sort the contents of his luggage (or, more accurately, sorting out the souvenirs) and Wonwoo decompressing by telling her all about his terrible flight and equally terrible in-flight entertainment, all while he separated his laundry from his still mostly-clean clothes. They usually do it in their own room instead of the living room, but there’s samgyetang boiling in the kitchen and more food items in Wonwoo’s luggage than Soonyoung had expected.

“Are these melons seriously that expensive?” Soonyoung asks, looking at the receipt in disbelief. “Did they just misprint a few zeros?”

“It’s the least we could give your parents for babysitting,” says Wonwoo. “I figured they might want to indulge a bit.”

“We could have put a down payment on a car for this much!”

“Well, we _did_ try to get them a new car before, but you know how _that_ went.”

Soonyoung knows. Her family, after years of being suspicious of Wonwoo’s intentions, were (mostly) over the drama of how their precious daughter had gotten knocked up by her former charge, but still had some issues with swallowing pride and appreciating gifts that they’d felt were a bit too _much_. The car they’d bought to replace the decade-old van at their farm had been received poorly by her father, and had gone to Youngwon instead. After that, Wonwoo had started easing them into more tasteful, less visibly big-ticket items.

Soonyoung figures they’d known a long time ago, though, and mostly just go along with the pretense for the sake of familial peace. Navigating family relationships is tricky.

Still, she figures her father would appreciate the gesture, though he usually disguised it under gruff, irritated comments about how his least favorite son-in-law was still annoying. Her mom, she wasn’t too worried about— Wonwoo was _her_ favorite son-in-law, after all.

She sets the fruit aside, careful in handling them now more than before she’d even checked the price. There’s some bags of chocolate and cookies at her side, mostly Japan-exclusive flavors of KitKat and some Country Ma’ms that she’s tempted to hide for herself. With great self-control and forbearance, she divides the contents up for the twins, Soojin, Youngwon and his family, Minkyung and _her_ family, their neighbors, the staff at the admin office and guardhouse, and a couple for the staff at Soojin’s daycare. Wonwoo’s 7-Eleven and duty-free haul, this time, leaves them with only a couple of sweets for themselves, but Wonwoo’s not that big on sugar so Soonyoung will most likely be the only one eating everything in _their_ shared portion anyway.

“You’re gonna spoil your appetite if you eat that,” Wonwoo pipes up, just as she’s tearing open a KitKat.

“You’re the picky eater out of the two of us,” says Soonyoung, rolling her eyes. “Besides, Soojin’s not around to see me anyway.”

“Your snacking habit is an _addiction_ ,” says Wonwoo. “Please don’t give her any candy before she goes to class.”

Soonyoung’s tempted to remind him of how many times he’d taken advantage of _that_ , drawing her in with gifts when they were dating and even using it for their sex life back then. They’d mostly outgrown it when they figured out that being too lazy to vacuum was an open invitation to finding ants in their bedsheets, but it didn’t stop the chocolate-dipped fruit and the whipped cream for special, out-of-town (read: hotel dry cleaning) occasions.

Besides, chocolate’s still better than flavored condoms. Soonyoung _hates_ those.

“I’m gonna put these in the fridge, but I can leave a couple of these out for dinner later,” she tells him, scooping up everyone else’s bags and nodding at theirs. “What do you want for dessert?”

“You,” says Wonwoo, smoothly, not even looking up from refolding his underwear.

“You’re supposed to be jetlagged, not horny,” says Soonyoung.

“I always want you,” he says, dutifully. Soonyoung kicks a rolled-up sock at him in response.

“That line isn’t as effective as you think it is,” says Soonyoung.

“Okay,” says Wonwoo, the corner of his lip twitching in amusement. “Did I mention I got you the signature of that young idol I was on a variety show with? The one you were fawning over?”

“Oh my god,” says Soonyoung, with great feeling, “take off your pants _right now_.”

Thankfully, Bongki and Bongsun don’t arrive until past midnight, so Soonyoung’s mostly decent and dressed by the time they get home. They’re arguing over some stupid thing about who has to take the trash out tomorrow, and they’re so loud about it that Soonyoung has to hush them down with her hands on her hips and her eyes shooting daggers at them from the hallway. They must make a funny scene, two mostly-grown teenagers towering over their mother but cowering under her glare, and if Wonwoo were still awake, he’d laugh at them over it.

As it is, Wonwoo’s already out like a light, fast asleep after a meal of samgyetang and eating Soonyoung out, more tired than he’d expected. He’d only cracked a sleepy smile when Soonyoung had joked about needing to get him something for his stamina next time, but he’d made no dissenting noises when Soonyoung pulled away, set his glasses on the counter and kissed his forehead as she tucked him in, mostly nude except for a sock under the comforter. They have plenty of time tomorrow.

“Where’s dad?” Bongsun asks, after spying Wonwoo’s shoes in the entryway.

“Competing with Jinhwan on who can sleep the longest,” says Soonyoung.

“Did he remember to buy some of those limited edition Pocky boxes?” Bongsun wheedles.

“You don’t even _like_ Pocky,” says Bongki.

“Yeah, but Ko Yuna from 3-C does,” says Bongsun.

“Is Ko Yuna that girl you were stalking the other month?”

Bongsun’s face turns an interesting shade of pink, and Bongki answers for him. “That was Min Sohee,” says Bongsun. “She already has someone else in mind.”

“Oh?” Soonyoung lifts an eyebrow at Bongsun, watching him squirm in his seat. “Someone from the sports team, I take it?”

“Worse,” says Bongsun, sinking into a slouch. Then, with a snort, he adds, “She’s a member of dad’s fanclub.”

“That never stopped you before.”

Bongsun wrinkles his nose. “This one’s different. She started telling _me_ she wanted to be _my_ stepmother. Why can’t dad have saner fans like Uncle Mingyu?”

“You should see your Aunt Junhui’s fans,” says Soonyoung. “They’re a _lot_ crazier.”

“Weren’t you one of them, mom?” Bongki teases.

“I still am,” she says, putting a hand to her heart solemnly. “If she asked me to elope and live with her in the mountains, maybe Min Sohee can live out her dreams.”

“Please don’t joke about that,” says Bongsun, sounding pained. “At least wait until _Jinhwan_ graduates from college before even thinking about leaving us!”

“She’s not gonna leave us,” says Bongki, kicking him under the table. “Right, mom?”

Soonyoung reins in the urge to tease him about it, but he’s starting to frown and look at her like a kicked kitten and it’s already half-past midnight. So she settles instead of feeding the eldest of her brood and nagging at them to shower before going to bed, but not before letting them steal a couple of sweets from her stash and fending them away from Soojin’s.

She quietly does the dishes and finishes up the rest of the unpacking she and Wonwoo had abandoned earlier, faster now that no one’s around to distract her. She checks in on Jinhwan before she goes to bed, and he’s still asleep, the quietest and deepest sleeper of all of them with Pompom sleeping at the foot of his crib. Back then, Hoshi liked to keep watch over the twins too, fascinated with the two new humans that did nothing but eat, sleep and poop the entire time. An ache wells up in her, but it’s fleeting— some things have changed, and some have stayed the same.

Wonwoo’s snoring, too, has changed, she thinks as she settles into bed —it’s become different as they grow older, louder now, more frequent. Sometimes, it’s scary to listen to, so much that she’d thought of taking them to a sleep specialist at some point, but Wonwoo and the twins tell her she’s the same way, and it doesn’t get better as they grow older. All of the things that come with age, the crow’s feet, the laugh lines, the back pain and the exhaustion— it’s not quite how she’d imagined herself when she’d been twenty or even thirty, but…

She rolls over until she’s facing Wonwoo, and she watches his chest rise and fall as his snoring does down to whistling noises. She remembers the first time she’d slept in the same bed with him in their first year of working together, accommodations falling through and turning into her own personal nightmare when one of the staff had mistaken them for a couple and given hem a single bed than two separate rooms. He’d mostly taken the news with only an irritated grunt and an offer to take the floor, but her pride had gotten in the way, and so they’d ended up sharing with a body pillow separating them. He’d snored then, too, but who wouldn’t after a full day of filming and traveling? She’d thought, then, that she never wanted to marry someone who snored and kept her up in bed so much that she’d barely get a wink of sleep.

It was only later that she’d thought that maybe it wasn’t just the snoring. That maybe she’d stayed up watching him because she’d always been weak for pretty faces, and wouldn’t it have been funny to tell her friends and future grandkids that she’d slept with a famous actor once, and never again?

She’s wrong about that, partly. Funny how life works out.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” she mutters, before snuggling closer until the top of her head is tucked under his chin, the first time in many days. “I’m getting earplugs next time.”

Wonwoo huffs under his breath, and sleeps soundly into the night.

**Author's Note:**

> I'd seriously thought of naming this the 12 days of kinkmas then thought better of it (mostly because I wasn't sure I'd reach 12 l o l)
> 
> [for your listening pleasure](https://open.spotify.com/track/5jfp1SOlHfDmkAhaclif6A?si=lg7XaN8qT6GkDD2iK8tg2w), a somewhat sexy cover of all I want for Christmas is you that gave birth to... this. Whatever this is. >:) Enjoy!


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